The world returned to her like a slow, trembling exhale.
Aara didn't open her eyes immediately. She simply lay there, suspended between warmth and cold, between noise and silence, between death and something that felt like… being held. For a long moment, she could not tell if she still existed.
Her body felt light, too light — like if she moved even a little, she would break apart.
Somewhere nearby, a bird chirped. One single note. Brave, small, hopeful.
She remembered hearing a bird when she was a child, crying behind the old school building because her classmates had locked her bag inside the toilet as a joke. The bird had sung then too. She wondered if it was the same kind of bird now. She wondered if it remembered girls like her.
Aara's fingers twitched.
Not dead.
Not fully alive.
Somewhere in between.
Her eyelids fluttered.
Light seeped in — warm, golden, far too soft to belong to the real world. She blinked again, adjusting to the glow. She was lying in a bed, but not her bed. This blanket wasn't hers. These walls weren't hers. This ceiling wasn't the cracked, damp ceiling of her tiny apartment.
Everything here was clean.
Warm.
Bright.
Too bright for someone like her.
She sat up quickly, heart racing. The room spun for a moment, and she grabbed the blanket to steady herself.
Where was she?
Why wasn't she in the hospital?
How was she breathing at all?
Her mind jumped back—
The rain.
The gym.
The cat crying beside her.
The cold pavement against her cheek.
The darkness swallowing her.
The light—
That impossible, golden, endless light.
Her breath caught.
"No… no, this isn't real," she whispered.
Someone knocked on the door.
Aara froze.
Knocking?
Her chest tightened painfully. She hadn't heard someone knock on her door gently in years. Usually it was someone angry, someone wanting a file, someone wanting something from her.
"Come in," Aara said automatically, her voice small, unsure, a leftover habit from years of trying to sound polite even when she was breaking.
The door opened.
A woman stepped inside — someone Aara had never seen before. She was dressed in soft colors, hair tied neatly, a warm expression on her face. She carried a tray with a steaming cup of something that smelled like ginger and honey.
"Oh good, you're awake," the woman said with a smile that reached her eyes — something Aara hadn't seen directed at her in a very long time. "You've been resting for two days. We were worried."
Aara couldn't speak.
Two days?
"W–Where am I?" Aara's voice cracked.
"You're safe," the woman said simply, placing the tray gently on the small table near the bed. "You're home."
Home.
The word pierced Aara like a knife.
Nobody had called anywhere she lived "home" in years. Home was a place where someone waited for you. Where someone cared if you were gone too long. Where someone brought you warm ginger tea.
This couldn't be real.
"Who… who are you?" Aara whispered, hands trembling.
Instead of answering, the woman sat on the edge of the bed, just far enough to give Aara space, but close enough to show she wasn't afraid.
"Drink first," she said softly, "your body is still adjusting."
Adjusting? To what?
Aara looked down at her hands.
They were smaller. Softer. No gym calluses.
Her breath faltered.
Her left wrist — the one she had sprained last year — was smooth. No trace of injury. Her skin looked younger, lighter, untouched.
This wasn't her body.
Her heart slammed against her ribs.
"What… happened to me?" she whispered, voice cracking like glass.
The woman reached out gently and tucked a loose strand of hair behind Aara's ear. It was an unfamiliar gesture, one filled with genuine affection. Aara's throat tightened painfully — no one had touched her with tenderness in so long that her body didn't know how to accept it.
"You're back," the woman said softly. "That's all that matters."
Back.
Aara's vision blurred.
Back where?
Back as who?
Back for what?
Before she could ask anything else, the door burst open again — this time not gently. A tall boy, maybe fifteen or sixteen, rushed into the room. His face lit up the moment he saw her.
"Aara!" he exclaimed, voice shaking. "You're awake!"
She stared at him.
He knew her.
But she didn't know him.
He ran to her and hugged her tightly — too tightly for someone who had nearly died two days ago. Aara froze, body stiff with shock. She didn't know how to react. Her body didn't know this warmth. Her heart didn't know this closeness.
The woman quickly scolded him, "Not so tight, Arin! She's still weak!"
Arin quickly let go, but he cupped her face gently with trembling hands.
"We thought we lost you," he whispered, eyes glossy.
Aara swallowed hard.
Lost her?
To who?
To what?
To death?
Aara pulled back slightly, panic rising again. "Why do you know my name?" she asked.
Arin looked confused.
"What do you mean? You're my sister."
Aara's heart stopped.
Sister.
A word heavier than mountains.
A word she had once wanted.
A word that had been poisoned in her first life.
But here…
Here it felt different.
Her lips parted, trembling. She didn't know whether to cry or run.
The woman placed a hand on Aara's shoulder, grounding her.
"We don't need to talk about everything right now," she said gently. "Your father will be home soon. He's been praying nonstop."
Father.
Another word that hit her like a wave.
Aara pressed her hand to her forehead, overwhelmed. Her thoughts tangled, her emotions blurred.
She was alive.
In a different body.
In a different place.
With people who cared.
People who cried for her.
People who called her family.
But why?
Why her?
Why now?
The woman poured the ginger tea and held it out.
"Drink, sweetheart. Everything will make sense with time."
Aara took the cup with shaking hands. The warmth seeped into her palms, anchoring her to this moment.
She took a sip.
Sweet.
Warm.
Comforting.
Something she had never tasted in her first life.
Arin sat beside her, eyes never leaving her face.
"You promise you won't scare us like that again, okay?" he said quietly.
Aara looked at him.
Really looked.
And for a brief, fragile second… something inside her chest softened.
A tiny warmth.
A small flame.
A feeling she couldn't name.
She set the cup down with trembling fingers.
"I…"
Her voice cracked.
"I don't know what's happening."
Arin exchanged a worried glance with the woman.
Aara's breathing quickened. Her pulse raced. Her vision blurred.
"I don't know who I am," she whispered.
Silence fell heavy and sharp.
The woman moved closer, touched her cheek softly, her eyes full of worry but also full of love.
"It's alright, Aara," she whispered. "We'll remind you. We'll help you remember everything."
Aara closed her eyes.
Tears slipped down her face — not from pain, not from loneliness, but from something she had not felt in years.
Being cared for.
Being wanted.
Being missed.
Her second life had begun.
But little did she know—
Even in this warm, gentle new world,
darkness had followed her.
Slowly.
Quietly.
Patiently.
Waiting.
---